


Speak Softly

by The_Wonderful_Jinx



Series: Don't Speak [3]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Not Beta Read, interns still as salty as ever, non Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 06:30:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5081236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wonderful_Jinx/pseuds/The_Wonderful_Jinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anything goes when Alex and Strand meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak Softly

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, time for me to ease up the salt train, stop hating on Strand, and actually write him well this time!

He wakes up to find an intern –a short young man with blond hair and thick rimmed glasses- leaning on the door frame playing some sort of game on his phone. His bored expression could put even the most caffeinated human to sleep. The intern looks at him impetuously, as though Strand should apologize  for interrupting him, then goes back to his game. Strand waits for a minute or two before he breaks the silence.

“Where’s Alex?”

The intern huffs. “Staff meeting.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Babysitting you instead of doing my real job of editing.” He fires back.

Strand grits his teeth. He wonders where the hell  Alex finds these people and why  she still keeps them. Insubordination like this was something he despises. Any intern of his would be unemployed the second they even glared at him. If he had his way in this office, half of the interns wouldn’t be here. Of course, he knows half the interns don’t want him around either. And then there’s the fact that he doesn’t run the space. Alex would most likely laugh in his face and throw him out rather than fire her  _darling_  interns that she adores so much. The inmates run the asylum, and Strand feels like the only doctor trying to keep the peace, with his assistant long gone.

_The asylum isn’t yours. And she isn't your assistant._

“I want to talk to her. Can you get her for me?” he pleads to the intern, trying not to sound too desperate. He doesn’t want to add fuel to the already overactive rumor mill. They really need to learn to be careful when and where they gossip. Of course, they don’t care if they get caught.

The intern ponders over his request before shrugging his shoulders and typing up a quick message. A minute later, he gets a reply. Richard rises from his chair, holding unto the armrests for balance.

“What does it say?”

The intern glares at him. “Patience. She’s on her way. Don’t piss her off again.” And with that, the intern walks away without a second glance, leaving Strand alone in the room.

His internal clock ticks slowly. Interns pass him on their way to work or to go home. Most just glare at him, some mutter insults under their breath. There’s nothing he can do to stop them. They’d just continue with more fire and Alex can’t stop them. They wouldn’t stop even if she asked them to. They were her shining knights in armor and the bloodthirsty hellhounds biting at his heels.

_And what does that make me? What am I to her? Where is my place in her social circle?_

Strand hears her before he sees her, the sharp click click click of her short heels gives away her position and arouse him from his thoughts. He straightens his posture. He waits. He fidgets. He debates if he should keep his cracked glasses on. He quickly takes them off and folds them in his pocket. He steals a glance at his reflection in the glass panels, he fixes his hair and straightens his jacket and tie. It’s the best he can do. It wouldn’t do to look mussed up in front of her. It was just good manners to look good for the hostess, even if she did throw the first punch.

A group of interns sitting on a beat up couch on the other side of the glass see him. They give him ugly looks -one even flips him off- before turning their attention back to the news report on the tv.

The clicking stops. Alex appears in the doorway. The interns whip around, more fascinated in the inevitable show down in the waiting room than a civil war. Alex and Strand turn and glare at the voyeurs in sync. They scatter. He turns his attention back to her. She looks him in the eye.

She looks even smaller than before. Her arms are crossed in front of her. Her eyes are moving up and down, searching him for something. She looks neat and collected – if unsteady- but he can feel the unease rolling off her like the waves. Neither move. They just look at one another, daring the other to make the first move. Alex takes the challenge.

“Richard.” Her voice low and soft. It’s strangely tender coming from the very woman that nearly broke his nose an hour ago.

“Yes Alex?” He responds in kind so he doesn’t scare her.

Her brows furrow, fighting to find the right words. He remembers that he has a stack of papers that have to be graded and lessons to plan, but it can wait, angry students be damned. He won’t rush her for the world or for job security. At this very moment, all he wanted was-

“I – I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me Alex.” He replies. “I practically called you an idiot in front of your coworkers and colleagues. I humiliated you. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry.”

“Are you?” The nervous look was now replaced with barely tempered fury. He sees her fists clench. Bravely and foolishly, he steps forward.

“Yes I am Alex.”

Her gaze falls to the floor, breaking the eye contact. Her lips twitch into a sneer. He moves closer, he can touch her shoulder. But he doesn’t. Not yet. 

“Are you in pain?” she still won’t look him in the eye.

“Physically, no. It wasn’t a love tap by all means, but I’ve had worse things thrown at my face than a fist.” He says, trying to keep things light, moving closer still. He can see a faint red line down her lip. The skin around and on her mouth looks off. He doesn’t comment on this, it can wait. He has an opportunity to make Alex happy- to make everything better- and he won’t give it up.

She scoffs, but she finally looks up at him. Her eyes are red. But she’s smiling, not crying. 

 _Good? Yes, good. I can work with this. I can fix this,_  he thinks.

“Care to name a few?” she teases.

“Plates, staplers, paper weights, binders.” He lists them off one by one lightheartedly, “One of your interns threw a chair at me one time when I-”

The little giggles that arise from each item turn into roaring laughter. She hides her widening smile behind her palm. She tries to reign it in, but fails, and more peals of laughter escape her mouth. He grins.

“Damn you Richard Strand,” she says in-between giggle fits,” I should be mad at you and here you are charming your way out again-“

She stops covering her mouth. Her grin widens and she hisses. He can see the mark on her lip more clearly now. How could he not, it was bleeding now. Red slowly trickled down her chin, a thin bright line. Her smile falls. He touches her bleeding lip, shocked and horrified of the implications of the wound. He never felt sick at the sight of blood, but he feels like he’s going to faint.

“Oh god Alex did I-”

“Apparently I’m not the only one around here with a mean right hook.” she says flatly. Her eyes are cold. They betray a deep-seeded resentment that has been festering for months, fed by every moment of negativity. It’s blossoming, and there’s nothing he could do to stop it. 

_It’s all your fault Richard Strand._

He holds her face with with shaking hands, his thumb wipe away the blood and takes the makeup off at the same time, exposing the bruise he left behind.

“Oh Christ Alex-” his voice breaks, “I didn’t mean to do this!” he sputters.

“I know.” she says. Her voice is sincere. Her eyes are lying, she doesn’t believe him.

 _ _Why would she believe a damn thing that comes out of your mouth?__  

“Alex I’m so sorry-”

He made a promise long ago, shortly after Coralee went missing, that he wouldn’t under any circumstances cry in front of anyone: be it friend, family, or foe. Today of all days, he breaks that promise, in front of the last person he wants to be seen weak in front of. He sinks to his knees on the hard floor and buries his face in the fabric of her skirt . He sobs and he begs for forgiveness he knows might never come.

Here he is, the unflappable Doctor Richard Strand brought to his knees out of guilt and shame, begging for forgiveness from the person who (rightfully) started the fight. He’s lost all right and claim to forgiveness the moment his fist connected with her mouth. He doesn’t event remember fighting back, that’s what really scares him.

 _And why should she forgive you? What gives you the right to ask for mercy a _fter all these months of dodging questions, building walls, and keeping secrets?__ he thinks, clinging to the fabric of her skirt. The scent of the coffee shop she haunts frequently still clings to the fabric. It’s comforting. And he wishes they were anywhere but here, warm and happy. 

 _B_ _ecause I forgive her in the first place damnit,_  he argues back with his conscious,  _because I refuse for this to end in such a wreck. I want to be her friend. I want her to reciprocate it. I don’t- I don’t want to be alone._

 _If there is one more miracle left to my name in your ledgers, please use it now,_ he prays to whatever higher powers are even there in the first place. 

Alex rests her hand on his head and begins stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. She’s whispering to him softly, telling him it’ll be alright. She wants him to stand up, no need for extravagant gestures, just look her in the eyes as he says his peace. In that moment, he thinks he believes in God again. He stands up slowly, feeling like a new man. He blinks back tears and his vision comes back. Alex is still in front of him. He throws his arms around her and brings into a tight embrace, mumbling apologies at rapid speeds. Any reserve he had of exposing his emotions and saving face is long gone.

“Alex I promise I wont hurt you ever again-”

“Strand-” she whispers, but he doesn’t hear her, too caught up in this display of rare affection -to her touch- to pay attention.

“Just please for the love of god forgive me-”

“Strand-” 

“Christ I don’t care that you hit me, I deserved it-”

“Strand!” Her voice is raw and raspy. That catches his attention. “You’re holding me too tight! Cant breathe!”

He releases her and she takes in a deep gulp of much needed air. Her cheeks are red. When she finally managed to get enough oxygen, she laughs. It’s weak, she has to lean on him for support, barely standing shaky legs. He guides her to the chair he used earlier, he makes sure he doesn’t hold too tight again.

“How do you feel?” He tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his hand brushes up against her earring. The little green beads jingle. 

“I’ll live." she says, waving him off. "Warn me next time you decide to hug me like that, you bastard.” she teases. She takes in deep breathes, letting her head lay back on the plain wall. Her color comes back to normal. The bruise still remains, peeking out from the spots where he wiped off the makeup. He stays by her side. He realizes that he hasn’t let go of her hand. Alex smirks. He squeezes her hand reassuringly. 

“What are we going to do now?” he says, moving his hand to her shoulder, kneading the tense muscle. “Is the recording safe?”

Alex nods and sighs as he eases away the knots. “Nic and the editing team are fixing it up. A little editing magic should do the trick. Once that’s done, we can continue as normal. Something strange will happen to us, and we can use it to fill in the rest of the episode.” She says it all with a small grin. Her eyes glimmer, aware of the meaning of her words.

“Something strange.” he repeats, letting the words roll off his tongue. “Maybe that should’ve been the name of your podcast considering that’s what happens to us every other day.” he teases.

She laughs and he smiles.

An intern -a woman dressed more formally than her peers and slurping on a slushy- passes by the glass panels and stops to examine the scene before her. Her boss and the doctor are laughing over a joke she missed. Then the doctor bends down to whisper something in Alex’s ear. The intern can’t make it out, but whatever he said makes Alex blush. The intern makes a mad dash for the editing room, silently hoping her employers didn’t see her,

They didn’t. They were too wrapped up in their little glass world, trying to pick up the pieces of their relationship (whatever it was) to notice anything around them that wasn’t the other. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this, took me a lot longer than i expected. Comments and critique are more than welcome!


End file.
